


Nights of Glamour

by Daisy_PoisonPen



Series: Nights of Glamour [1]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Pre-powers, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Sex for pay, Shameless Smut, bottom!Stephen strange, top!tony stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:41:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24361513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_PoisonPen/pseuds/Daisy_PoisonPen
Summary: He’s an escort. Sex is his job. Not that he doesn’t *like* his job, it’s just that he is used to feeling like the perfect sex toy he’s turned himself into.Until Tony Stark calls him “his” and makes him feel alive.
Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Series: Nights of Glamour [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758943
Comments: 33
Kudos: 210





	Nights of Glamour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Insert_witty_username](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insert_witty_username/gifts).



> Hello and welcome back to a mew edition of “Things Daisy Wrote Instead of Working On Her WIPs - The Sexcort Edition” where we are now just making up reasons for Tony Stark and Stephen Strange to have sex.
> 
> A belated but very happy birthday to Insert_witty_username who loves ironstrange smut as much as I do. <3
> 
> Very special thanks to ElisaPhoenix for pre-reading.
> 
> this is rated E for Everybody needs Company Sometimes (smirk emoji)

The first time Stephen saw Tony Stark, he was very, _very_ drunk in the type of party that involved a dark room, heavy smoke, and lots of party lights and party _favors._ He hadn’t paid the man any mind— he was with a high-paying client who liked to make him kneel and suck cock, and frankly, all of his focus was on staying still and letting the man pet him and fuck his mouth as he wished.

He was… used to it, maybe. The men that got off on making him do what they wanted, they had a special way of letting him know he was as disposable as the condoms they used. But kneeling on a carpet in the dark wasn’t the worst way he’d ever spent his evening, so he ignored the drunk laughter and the girls and the boys that all hung off of Tony Stark’s words and laughter, hoping they’d be picked to be his next unmemorable and easy conquest.

The first time he _met_ Tony Stark was at a gala.

Since his time selling himself in club parties and drug fests, he’d moved up in the hooking world. He’d been discovered by a ‘modeling’ company. They liked that he was well-spoken and intelligent, and that he was tall and kind of skinny— not unhealthy looking, but muscled and trim, not an addict. They gave him expensive, tailored clothes and cologne, set him up with spa treatments, waxing and fixing him until he glowed, and then they set him up with clients who could pay twenty thousand dollars for a date.

Of course, Stephen’s life changed dramatically. He could afford an apartment that wasn’t a shithole— hell, his apartment was downright luxurious, which was a feat considering how much it was to have one in LA. He could buy expensive things that he liked, fuck _a lot,_ and even pay off his remaining debt. 

But then he ditched his date for Tony Stark.

Obviously, his bosses were angry, but he apologized profusely, and they gave him another chance when he explained that it went like this:

His date was handsome but talked way too much, and he didn’t think the guy would ever shut up. He also was a complete moron. Stephen might have been a hooker, but he was the best of the best before…

Well, before.

And this guy was constantly chattering about how his company was great and whatever else, obviously trying to schmooze people into investing but also sounding needy and desperate. He also left Stephen at the bar more than once in favor of sleazing his way into someone’s pocket, not realizing that it was literally Stephen’s job to help him do that by being pretty and saying the right things.

When he returned to the bar for the _third_ time that night, apologizing profusely and downing his umpteenth glass of champagne, Stephen put on his best _I’m-still-into-you_ expression and said, “It’s no problem, Justin. How about a dance?”

“Dancing with you? Yeah, that… that would be great.”

Stephen allowed himself to be pulled into the dance floor, smiling politely letting his date feel him up ‘discreetly’. Ugh this guy was definitely the type that came too early but still gloated about how great a lay he was, and nobody ever told him he probably sucked at everything related to sex.

Well, except Tony Stark. 

He’d seen the man talking to the same congressman as Justin had been trying to schmooze, a viciously ugly fellow with a yikes-botched lip job, except he wasn’t kissing the congressman’s ass, he was arguing with him.

Curious, he left Justin safely at the bar and wandered over to the congressman. As he got closer, he noticed that Stark’s voice was casual, warm, and confident, and that the congressman was losing his patience.

Stephen did always like a man that bucked authority, and this man was having _fun_ grinding the official’s gears.

“Excuse me,” he said politely.

The congressman turned and leered. “Ah, you were Hammer’s companion for the evening, correct? Stephen, was it?” The man took Stephen’s hand, but instead of shaking it, he rubbed his thumb over Stephen’s knuckles.

“Don’t touch my stuff,” Stark snarks immediately.

 _Possessive?_ Stephen’s throat went dry. _His stuff? He wasn’t even— how on earth did he get that notion just from a two second interaction?_

“Go run the bar dry, Stark.”

Stark shrugged off the insult with a complacent smirk. In this lighting and the formal attire, Stephen got a much better look at _the_ Tony Stark than he did in that club all those years before. His brown eyes were warm, sharp with intellect. His wild hair had been gelled and tamed, but still looked so full and soft, Stephen imagined fucking him and then spending the rest of his paid time just running his fingers through the man’s hair. He had a perfectly styled and lined goatee, full enough to look soft and framing perfect, plump lips.

He’d never been more attracted to someone in his entire life, and he frankly didn’t know what to do.

Tony watched him take him in with a smirk, the kind that said he knew exactly how attractive he was. Cocky, the smartest man in the room, and confident, and fuck, so sexy, and knowing he was all of those things. Tony Stark moved through the room as if he owned it and everyone in it.

He could own Stephen with a word, and he knew it. He knew it, and in his mind, it had already happened.

He didn’t speak directly to him, choosing instead to dismiss Senator Stern like he was useless. His tone was warm and joking, but his eyes were cold and furious. Whatever hornets nest Stephen had stepped into, he’d definitely put an end to whatever fiasco was happening between those two.

“Thanks for the rescue,” Stark’s said when they were closer to the bar. “Did you really come here with Justin Hammer?” The disgust in his voice made it clear what he thought about that. “What’s someone pretty and smart like you doing with an idiot like him?”

Justin had turned as he heard his name, schooling his face into his best smile. “Tony Stark! I hadn’t seen you around tonight, and I’ve been waiting to talk to you.”

“Very funny,” Tony snipped as Justin gestured at the bar. “See, Justin, here, he thinks he’s the best inventor in the western hemisphere, but he has yet to beat me out of any contract. It fucks with him, so he goes with the whole reformed-alcoholic joke that everyone else has tried on me tonight— unoriginal, just like his work.”

Stephen could have played this the way that ended with him going home to boring sex with Justin Hammer, getting paid, and moving on with his life. Or, he could let Tony Stark drape himself all over him and say dirty things in his ear that made him turn pink— Stephen, who literally went on dates and had sex for money, turning pink.

He definitely, unswervingly, and without hesitation, chose the latter. He tilted his head a little, and Tony’s eyes sparked with the victory as he laid a kiss on Stephen’s neck that sent shudders skittering over his skin. 

Justin Hammer looked like he was having an aneurysm burst for about twenty seconds. Stephen had never seen that shade of red before, and he actually looked like he was having some sort of murderous psychotic break before he suddenly schooled his face again, back into a perfectly neutral smile. Stephen was suddenly glad to be getting far away from this complete lunatic.

“You know I’ll have to let your lady know about this, don’t you?” He said, his voice chilly.

Stephen shrugged. 

“You let her know that Tony Stark will pay double for the inconvenience.” Tony leered at Stephen for a moment and amended, “double and a half. You couldn’t keep this sweet thing satisfied if you overdid it on little blue pills, anyway.”

“Oh, fuck you, Stark—”

“No thanks. Can I buy you a drink, pretty Stephy?”

 _Pretty Stephy?_ “Do you— do you just nickname everyone?”

“Not everyone.” He got Stephen a drink but ordered himself soda water. Stephen couldn’t down his drink fast enough, and his mouth was still dry because he was watching Stark _sip_ , watching his throat bob with each swallow.

Stephen was way out of his depth. 

It was no secret that he liked sex and enjoyed it— hell, it had become his profession. But he never— fuck, he never _needed_ it before, never needed to know what someone’s lips would be like against his, what someone’s cock would feel like in his throat, what someone’s hands would feel like on him. But his skin kept warming up with each imagined pass of Stark’s hands, his throat kept drying out at the thought of kissing Stark, letting Stark fuck his mouth. His palms were sweating because he wanted to touch. 

Stark was unnervingly calm, and he was losing his shit, and it was starting to irritate him. He swallowed the last bit of drink and put his cup down. “Thank you for the drink,” he said, and then he slipped out of his chair.

“Hey, not so fast,” Stark said, his fingers locking around Stephen’s wrist. “What’d I do to scare you off?”

“You haven’t actually said two words to me, for starters.”

“Sure I did.”

Stephen glared.

“You were having so much fun checking me out, I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And now you’re my date,” Tony said winningly, sliding an arm around his waist.

 _Don’t touch my stuff. Now you’re my date._ “You’ve been planning this,” Stephen realized.

“Since I saw you first,” Tony answered charmingly.

“You’re incorrigible and an asshole.”

“And you are still my date,” was the answer to that.

Stephen huffed because that was true. He had no intention of leaving despite his aborted temper tantrum.

Being Tony Stark’s Date™ was different than being Justin Hammer’s date. Justin talked too much and said nothing, constantly left him by himself to deal with “important people” and was very, very drunk— thankfully the man seemed to have ended his night early. Stark, though, engaged him, tested his intellect, watched him with those sharp, intense brown eyes, and introduced him to the “important people” and even started an injoke where Stephen immediately knew Tony’s opinion of the person in question. He seemed to be pretty good at schmoozing, but then, the guy was a genius and most people were in awe of him, Stephen included.

When Tony finally leaned into him and said, “lets blow this joint” Stephen had to bite his tongue to keep from moaning.

Instead he replied, “if you hurry, I’ll blow you instead.”

“Fuck yes. Where’s my car? Valet? Time’s ticking,” he demanded, and Stephen had to laugh at him. It was funny how something so _adult_ could make him excited like a little kid. The car arrived within a minute or two and Tony hustled Stephen into it, holding the door for him and letting his fingers just linger until they made that spot on Stephen’s wrist warm. They peeled into the night with electricity crackling between them.

“Take your clothes off,” Tony said.

“Right now? In the car?”

“Right now, in the car. Take it off, I want to see what I get to play with.”

Stephen undid his cufflinks, put them in his pocket. Slowly stripped his tie off, rolled that up and put it in his pocket, too. Shrugged out of his jacket, then worked open the buttons of his shirt. He toed off his shoes and socks, then pulled apart his belt. Tony was blatantly staring at him now, not even bothering to watch the road.

“Drive?” Stephen reminded.

“JARVIS is driving.”

Stephen raised an eyebrow as he shimmied out of his pants, leaving him in nothing but his boxer briefs. “Who the fuck is JARVIS?”

“He’s just JARVIS. Come on, let me see the grand prize.”

Well, it didn’t seem like they’re going to drive off a cliff or something, so Stephen pushed his underwear down his legs, leaving him naked against the plush, warm leather and already breathing hard.

Tony’s hand skimmed almost reverently over his thigh, gently taking his cock in his fist and making him moan as he stroked it. “Feels good, honey?”

“Unh,” isn’t an intelligible response but Stephen figured it got the point across.

“Your cock is perfect,” Tony purred, expertly twisting his hand over the sensitive head with each stroke. Stephen’s hips strain against the seatbelt as they buck into his hand. Tony kept his hand on his cock the whole drive, gripping, stroking, fondling his cock until he felt delirious, turned on and feverish, teased _almost_ to orgasm and kept on that maddening edge for what felt like hours.

When the car stopped, he was in a well-lit sort of garage tunnel which had heated flooring and an elevator door which dinged open as they scrambled out of the car. Tony pushed him against the wall of the elevator and attached his lips to his neck with a groan, and Stephen ground his cock against Tony’s thigh, yanking his shirt out of his pants and pulling the buttons apart expertly before yanking out Tony’s belt and throwing it somewhere and undoing his pants before shoving them down.

Mostly naked, Tony only pulled them as far as the couch and was going to stop, but Stephen finally remembered that this was a _job_ and pulled himself upright in time. “Bedroom?”

Tony took his hand and pulled him toward the bedroom, and Stephen laughed at his excited expression. The bedroom was huge and beautiful, but Stephen was used to this sort of opulence at this rate and frankly, that huge bed and all the things they could get up to on it were what was at the forefront of his mind, so he pushed on Tony’s shoulders until he was sitting on the bed and then he leaned over him, kissing him slowly. 

Tony was known for fantastic but quick fucks— that was his reputation. But Stephen was going to make sure this was a night to remember, and for that, he had to get his head on straight. He had to tamp down on that fire Tony was lighting in his spine, had to forget the mischief and lust and intensity in his brown eyes. He was just a client. _He was just a client._ Stephen was there to service him.

He was proud of his cocksucking skill, so he dove down onto Tony’s cock and fucking worshipped it with his tongue and his lips, swallowing him down smoothly and causing him to grunt, his hips bucking instinctively. “Fffffuck,” he breathed, and when Stephen looked up at the same time he hollowed out his cheeks, he saw Tony’s eyes roll up in his head and his entire body go boneless.

He smirked a little, working his tongue along a little spot right near the head that made Tony’s legs shake. He gave a little satisfied hum and was rewarded with a splatter of precum for his effort. He licked it clean, loving the taste.

Tony’s nightstand had condoms and lube so Stephen took the condom out of its wrapper and fitted it between his teeth, working it down onto Tony’s stiff cock with one smooth movement he’d practiced many times, checking to make sure there was no air bubbles with his tongue, which earned him a throaty groan. When he released Tony’s cock with a lewd pop, Tony arched an eyebrow. “Hot,” he said, smirking.

He winked, and his _client_ laughed. “Hot and cheeky. Come here, let me see cheeks.”

Stephen rolled his eyes, crawling up over his body, letting Tony’s hands roam his back until they landed on two smooth, soft-skinned globes and squeezed. Then he reached for the lube, slicking Tony’s cock generously. 

“H-hey, I—”

But he sunk onto that amazing cock in one smooth move, just like how he’d swallowed it, and Tony let out a yell. He only gave himself a moment to adjust before riding him slowly at first, letting them find a rhythm. Tony’s hands were as expert as his own, and one guided Stephen’s hips while the other stroked lazily at his length and made Stephen moan, or reached up to flick at peachy nipples. 

His hand reaches up around the back of Stephen’s neck, pulling him down until they were locked in a filthy kiss both panting into each other's mouths as their lazy grind sped up to a perfect cant. Some part of Stephen, the part he’d never had to smother until tonight, noted that he loved the way they moved together, loved the awe and mischief in warm, scotch-brown eyes, the smile lines that crinkle the corners of his eyes. He let his fingers splay across warm, tan skin, tracing his the thick muscles of his arms and forearms that were wrapping around him and smoothly pulling his body underneath, his hands guiding Stephen’s legs around his waist without breaking their rhythm.

Stephen’s body shook at the change in angle and he cried out. Tony’s lips descended on his neck, kissing and leaving little bites in his wake. Each one made Stephen whimper helplessly.

“Feels good, baby?” Tony’s voice was rough in his ear, smoky and fuck, so sexy, and Stephen looked up at him, smiling.

“You’re checking on me?” he asked curiously.

“Sure.” Tony slowed them to a delicious grind, pushing into him as deep as he could and then rolling his hips. 

“OhhFUCK,” Stephen cried out, “Oh, fuck, Tony—”

“Shh, shh,” Tony laughed, petting his hair, kissing his neck. “Tell me,” he said lowly, with that smoky tone of voice again.

“S-so deep, feels good,” Stephen pants, a little breathless. “Please—”

Tony smirked. “See? You were so quiet, I was starting to worry. Had to make sure.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Stephen muttered. “You’re… I mean, I’m just…”

“In my bed, underneath me, looking so pretty and sexy, letting me touch you and kiss you and fuck you. The other stuff… doesn’t matter. I want you to be having as much fun as I am.”

Could it be…?

Tony Stark, the man famous for escorts and floozies and one-night-stands and drunk public nudity, the one that had unceremoniously told Senator Stern not to touch “his stuff”, actually would treat him like a human tonight? Could it be that this person of all people would care about getting him off, making sure he felt comfortable, safe, sexy? 

Could it be that he could lose himself in this man’s arms tonight and be alright? Would he be able to just be _Stephen,_ and not a paid whore? 

It seemed too much, too good to be true, but Tony’s eyes were still sincere and slightly mischievous, his lips were still nipping insistently at his or whispering kind things or dirty, filthy things that made him moan. His hands were the best though, because they held him so firmly, touched him gently even though they were sort of rough, probably from building things. Stephen liked the feeling of them on him, and always arched into his touch.

Tony leaned down again, his lips sucking at a spot below Stephen’s ear at the same time he pushed back on Stephen’s legs until they were over his shoulders, and then he leaned down a little and bucked. 

Stephen’s body shook. Besides doggy style, he loved this position the best, and Tony wasn’t holding back. he was _pounding_ into him, hard and fast, then harder and faster, and then slow, deep strokes again, changing it up constantly and leaving Stephen on edge until he was screaming into his teeth.

“Wanna come?” Tony tempted.

Stephen forced himself to think through his lust. He didn’t want this night to be over already and he didn’t want to come before Tony—he had to do his _job,_ for fucksakes…

Heh.

He shook his head, motioning for Tony to let him up. When he did, Stephen dragged himself onto his knees, his thighs twitching a little, and arched his ass into the air. Tony grabbed it immediately, giving each cheek an appreciative squeeze.

There was another drip of cool lube, and then Tony was sliding into him again, both men letting out deep, breathy groans as Tony bottomed out inside him. “Fuck,” Tony hissed, pulling back and sinking into him again.

From this angle, Stephen could work himself down onto Tony’s cock with each thrust, and the small movements of his hips made Tony wild. “Oh shit, God, Pretty Stephy, you’re perfect—” he took both hips in his hands and bucked into him until he was groaning. “F-fuck, oh fuck, I’m close. S-Steph—”

“Come for me,” Stephen crooned, looking over his shoulder at the lust-blown expression on Tony’s face. He found himself reaching up and taking his own erection in his hand. Normally, he would just let his client come where they wanted and finish himself when he got home but here, he wasn’t just some hooker. He was _Pretty Stephy_ and he wanted to come on Tony Stark’s cock.

The sight of him working himself to orgasm drove Tony closer to the edge, and soon both men were moaning loudly, cocks pulsing and their entire bodies tightening deliciously with each rope of come. Tony was nice enough to roll onto his back instead of collapsing on top of him, and Stephen turned to see him hissing as he slipped his condom off and tied it, tossing it neatly into a trashcan.

“Okay, baby?”

Stephen smiled and nodded catching his breath. Tony watched him breathe for a moment. “You’re different.”

“What?”

“You’re different, I can tell. Most of the escorts I’ve met are just pretty, and study art and history and politics and whatever else enough to keep up conversation. But not you, you _know_ stuff. You’re not a bimbo that has to keep up appearances.”

Stephen shrugged, closing his eyes. “Thanks, I guess.”

“What’s your story, Pretty Stephy?”

“What’s yours, Tony Stark?”

Tony chuckled, conceding the point. “Fair enough,” he said. His fingers reached over and travelled over the skin of Stephen’s back, tracing little patterns that tickled but somehow still felt good. Stephen didn’t mean to fall asleep, but he was enjoying Tony’s hands on him so much that he didn’t even realize when he slipped into calm, restful blackness.

When he woke up in the morning, he had a billion calls and texts from Fordman, his bodyguard, asking what the fuck happened and pissed that he’d ditched his date and his security, and where the fuck was he?! Tony had laid a kiss on his shoulder and gone off to do something or other, leaving him to see himself out. “Breakfast is already ordered for you. Feel free to take your time in the shower. I’m off to work, but Pepper will see you out when you’re ready. I had a great time, baby. Let me know who to call to see you again.” 

And with that, Stephen crashed back to reality. He showered, pulled on his clothes, and took his breakfast to go, leaving a business card that read **NIGHTS OF GLAMOUR MODELLING CO.** on Tony’s nightstand.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey let me know what you think about this! if you like that feel free to drop a kudos, and I’ll write a Tony POV and some follow ups.
> 
> stay safe!  
> <3Daisy


End file.
